Mother and Brother
by AnnabethKatnissGranger
Summary: The death of Damon and Stefan's mother, and the funeral. Please read, review and point out any grammar mistakes if they are there!


The sun was shining the day of the funeral. Damon and Stefan hadn't gone to the ceromony. It had been their mothers wish that they not see her corpes. Damon had begged his father to let him say good bye but his father had been adament to keep to his late wifes wishes.

"Stay here with your brother. If I see you in that church, I will personally throw you out. Do you understand me."

So Damon had remained at the manor. He had not had the chance to see his mother one last time.

He heard the solem sound of the church bell ringing through Mystic Falls for his mother. She had always loved the church bells. She used to hum along with them and sometimes she and him would dance around the drawing room to the sound of the ringing. The bells did not stir a desire to dance within him today, he felt as though he would never dance again.

Damon sat with Stefan in the drawing room. Black drapes had been hung around the room and table with platters of food had been layed out in anticipation of the sympathisers soon to come.

Damon and Stefan were both wearing black suits. Damon had always hated it when he had to wear a suit. His mother used to laugh when he would grumble about the fabric itching against his skin.

On one occasion at Mary Youngs wedding when Damon had been complaining about the suit.

"I'll tell you what" his mother had smiled at him "I'll wear your suit, if you wear my corset and dress."

Damon grinned "Now mother I wouldn't look nearly as lovely as you in that."

She had laughed "What a gentlemen. Well I suppose its for the best, I wouldn't look nearly as handsome as you do in that suit."

Damon felt a puffed out his chest and laughed, suddenly the fabric didn't seem to itch so much.

Damon wondered what she was wearing when they buried her. The last time he had seen her she had been wearing her nightdress . Would they change her clothes? Would they fix her hair? Would they give her jewelery?, and who would do it?

Damon guessed he would never know. He hoped that whatever attire they had dressed her in was comfortable and that it was blue. Blue had always been her favourite colour.

Stefan was sitting on the floor playing with toy soilders.

"Damon when is father returning?" asked Stefan

"Soon, brother."

"How soon."

"I don't know, soon."

Stefan remained silent for a while after that. "Why did mother die?"

Damon had been asking himself the same question over and over again ever since she died.

Why had she had to die? Why her? Why hadn't it been him?

He hadn't been able to formulate any kind of answer. He remembered the morning so clearly. He and Stefan hadn't been suppose to see mother, father had said that Damon and Stefan were not to see her. He said that it would only cause her stress but Damon had been sneaking into her room early in the morning or whenever father was out at council meetings. Thursday morning he had been tip toeing down the hall to his mothers room when he had seen Dr. Mergan coming out of his mothers room followed by his father, both wore solem faces.

Dr. Mergan extended his hand to Mr. Salvatore "I'm sorry for your loss."

Suddenly Damon felt a tight knot of worry and dread form in his chest as a wave of panic flood through him.

_No no no no no_

Mr. Salvatore shook it and nodded. "Come with me, I think we need to make some arrangements."

_No no no no no _

Mr. Salvatore nodded again and followed Dr. Mergan down the hall. As soon as they turned the corner Damon sprinted into the room. "Mother?" he whispered. She was lying down on the bed, her face was covered in sweat and her eyes were closed, like she was sleeping.

_No no no no no_

"Mother?" Damon reached out to grab her hand and was alarmed at how cold it was.

"Mother!" Damon shook her hand "Wake up!"

But Mrs. Salvatore did not move. "Mother, come on. You have to get up."

Damon felt the horrible feeling of dread and worry in his chest grow until it felt like it was going to rip open tear his chest apart, tears were running down his face.

"Please."

Damons mother did not answer his pleas she remained still in the bed.

Damon climbed up on the bed and layed next to her. Tears still streamed down his face as he gripped her hand. "Mother please come back." He choked "Don't leave me."

"You can't be dead. You are not dead. You are not dead. You are not dead."

He chanted, but she was.

"What are you doing." Came an angry voice from the doorway.

Mr. Salvatore stepped into the room. He marched over to Damon and yanked him up.

"Get out!" Damon fell onto the floor.

He couldn't leave her, however he knew that if he tried to speak his voice would fail him and he would only begin to sob. If he had learned anything it was that you couldn't cry infront of Mr. Salvatore. Remembering this he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I said get out! You stupid worthless boy."

Damon glanced over at his mothers body. Mr. Salvatore grabbed Damons arm and dragged him from the room. He threw him into the hall slamming the door behind him.

Damon did not move away from the room. He sat in the hall waiting. None of the servants tried to move him, Mr. Salvatore did not come to tell him to leave, so undisturbed Damon stared at the door. Memories of Mrs. Salvatore flooded his mind.

He stared at the wall paper not really seeing anything.

"Damon." Said Stefan pulling his brother out of his train of thought.

"I- sorry brother, I was lost in thought."

"Do you want to play toy soldiers." Asked Stefan

"No thanks." Damon replied looking out the window at the friends and acquaintances of the late Mrs. Salvatore. Sally one of the maids entered the room.

"Your guests our here. Now Master Salvatore I'll take these toys to your room, and you can go greet your guests."

She said plucking up the soldiers. Damon stood up and put his hand on his younger brothers shoulder leading him to the hall where they stood dutifully next to their father.

They greeted each and every sympathiser who walked through there door. Damon hated it. He hated standing there being reminded by every single town member came up to them and reminded him that his mother was never coming back. He hated the way people who had barely spoken to his mother acted as if they had been personally affected by his mothers death.

Damon wondered how his father was so calm. He shook the sympathisers hand politely, he was perfectly sub dued. His emotions were hidden behind a mask of bland refined manners.

Damon had only been standing here for twenty minutes and already he felt he was going to explode. He wanted to yell and run away. He didn't want to stand here and act everything was alright. He didn't want to pretend that everything was fine, because it wouldn't be. He felt as though there was a massive gaping whole in his heart where he mother used to be. It wasn't fair.

Stefan, like his father didn't seem to have any problem hiding his emotions. It was like Stefan was an exact copy of his father. He could cut himself off from his emotions like it was nothing. He could hide behind a mask of manners just like his father could. Even as a baby Stefan hardly ever cried, Damon remembered his mother warning him that babies sometimes sobbed so much they could be heard from the next house. Damon hadn't wanted to be kept awake all night by a screaming baby but he was looking forward to having a younger brother, however when Stefan was born he hardly ever cried. He was the perfect son, he didn't keep his parents up all night with screaming, and as he got older he became a mannerly well behaved. Damon had never quite managed to live up to Stefan, at least not in his fathers eyes. He had sometimes resented his younger brother, but his mother had always reminded him that he was Stefans older brother it was his duty to protect him, even when Stefan irritated him but his mother was gone now.

Now, there was nobody to bring him back from his darkest places.

Stefan was the good brother, he would always be the good brother. He was the one people loved, he was what his father wanted him to be. Maybe if he stuck around long enough he could be what people wanted him to be. Someone who could smile politely even when his mother was gone, someone who always acted the way he was suppose to act, to be what people wanted him to be.

Stefan, the perfect son.


End file.
